FenceStriking Distance - Sarah Rees Brennan Page 0,84
voice, Seiji thought later, but at the time he was focused on achieving his goal. He explained about Nicholas and about Eugene and about the prank.
“I don’t see how this is a funny prank,” his father had contributed at last.
“Humor is difficult to understand, isn’t it?” Seiji had commiserated. “You know I never get jokes, so I don’t try to figure them out anymore. I didn’t understand Jesse’s jokes, either.”
“That’s because Jesse isn’t funny,” his father had muttered.
Seiji had frowned. “What?”
Perhaps he’d misheard his father. Almost all adults were charmed by Jesse, who had flawless and engaging manners, and a smile that made people smile back at him. His parents had been so relieved when Seiji introduced Jesse to them: a friend his own age at last, and a friend anybody could be proud of. Seiji always presumed his parents wished Seiji were more like Jesse. He didn’t blame them for wanting that. Any parents would feel the same way.
Only it was true that his father hadn’t smiled at one of the jokes Jesse had made at a party last year. Seiji had wondered about that at the time.
“Do you find humor difficult to understand as well?” Seiji asked his father tentatively.
“Not usually,” said his father.
Seiji sighed, and tried to think of a different way to explain the prank. He supposed it had been too much to hope for, that he and his father might have something in common.
“Apparently, it’s other boys’ faces once the prank is accomplished that will be amusing? The part about being amusing is not important. The part that is important is getting justice for Nicholas. Do you understand?”
Seiji hoped he had explained it right this time.
“Tell me about Nicholas,” said his father.
“About—Nicholas?” Seiji repeated uncertainly.
“Would I like him?”
“I shouldn’t think so,” said Seiji. “He has terrible manners. And a basically unfortunate way of speaking and interacting with the world generally. He’s very untidy, too.”
“Oh, but you hate it when things aren’t in the correct places,” murmured his father. “I still remember that time we had the ambassador’s son over for a playdate, and you made him cry.”
“What is the point of painstakingly building castles with blocks only to knock them down?” Seiji asked. “Or sniveling?” He dismissed his father’s reminiscences. “Anyway, that was when I was very young and it no longer matters, so I don’t see the point of bringing it up. The point is—”
“Justice for Nicholas,” said his father. “Is Nicholas—very good at fencing?”
“No,” said Seiji plainly.
There was a stunned silence.
“He has a certain raw potential, but he hasn’t been properly trained because of his socioeconomic circumstances,” Seiji continued. “I wish to discuss this topic with you on our winter vacation. I think there must be foundations and scholarships set up. Many valuable fencers could be lost. It is almost too late for Nicholas. I shall be forced to teach him extremely rigorously.”
There was more silence. Seiji wondered if his father had dropped his phone.
“What about your coach?” asked his father at last.
“She’s very good but she likes us to focus on teamwork in a way I don’t enjoy,” said Seiji. “And she often suggests we relax. Someone with Nicholas’s current technique shouldn’t be allowed to relax. The way he conducts his whole life is disgusting.”
“Have you said that to him—in those words?” asked his father, sounding somewhat apprehensive.
“I tell Nicholas how bad he is constantly,” Seiji said. “He does not listen.”
His father coughed. Seiji hoped his father wasn’t unwell. “May I ask how you made friends with this boy?”
“I didn’t make friends with him,” Seiji answered, bewildered by this line of questioning. “You know I don’t know how to make friends! He just said we were friends, so now we are, and people hurt his feelings, so—as should be perfectly obvious—I must do something about that. As I have already explained several times.”
There was a touch of severity in Seiji’s reminder. He knew his father was intelligent, so there was no need to make Seiji repeat himself.
“Nice for you to have some different friends,” his father remarked irrelevantly.
Seiji thought of the constant mess in his room and weight lifters assaulting him and having to worry about people’s feelings.
“I don’t find it especially nice,” he said gloomily.
“You were such a… distant kid,” said his father. “You always seemed so hard to reach.”
Seiji responded, startled, “I didn’t think you were trying.”
His father hesitated, then continued with an odd note in his voice: “We should have tried harder. We thought it would be easier to